


For We Fear That Which We Long for

by asparagusmama



Series: Seasons AU - extras! [6]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Flashbacks, M/M, Memories, Missing Scene, PTSD, non sexual love making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asparagusmama/pseuds/asparagusmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is, in fact, the first missing scene from Blue Autumn Love but will read as a stand alone, as does the other missing scene.</p><p>Hathaway struggles with what he wants, what he desires, his love for Lewis and his abusive, lovelorn childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lewis and Hathaway belong to ITV

What now? Thinks James. He can no longer leave after a bit of kissing, no longer get out of the car or run from Lewis’ flat. He’s on a promise. He wanders over to the window, the huge French style windows.

“It’s a balcony!” he exclaims, looking out at elegant Inigo Jones style Georgian grounds, red and gold glowing trees covering hills behind, almost on fire in the sunset. “It’s beautiful,” he can’t help saying, trying to ignore the rising sense of awe and love at the Creator of that beauty, because he’s about to ignore that Creator’s instructions.

“So are you.”

James turns. “No I’m not.”

“You are to me, even if it’s taken me bloody years to notice.”

James snorts, not sure if he’s disbelieving but flattered or alarmed at the cheesiness.

“Come here.”

An order, James thinks. And obeys. He sits beside his boss, shivering.

“You know...”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ve never... Not consensually. Ever. I pretended, but the truth is...”

“I know. You’re safe with me.”

James notices how Lewis – how Robbie – is deliberately not touching him.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. And if you want to stop, that’s fine. Just say. You’re in charge here.”

“I don’t want to...” James begins. Confused, he stumbles over his words. “That’s not want I... I mean I want you to...”

“Come here pet. Don’t be silly. I know what you want, but you’re in charge. If you want me to stop, say so, if you want me to – you know – come out of you, say so.”

“But that’s not...”

“It’s okay. If you get flashbacks, don’t hide it. I’m here for you, okay. I won’t mind. We’ve all the time in the world.”

James sighs and shivers as his boss kisses him, pushing him down on the bed, underneath, kissing more deeply, stroking his hair, every movement, every touch gentle and slow, like nothing he’d... How could he think this would be like being a child, being in that Russian truck, how... “Stop, “ he tries, experimenting. Immediately Lewis rolls off him and sits up.

“Okay?”

“I started to think about those bastards, but I’m okay now, I think, but I don’t know what I could...”

“Want to explore? Have a meal? There’s no rush, pet.”

James shakes his head and leans forward to kiss Lewis, pulling him on top of him, parting his legs and pulling him tighter to him. God! How many years had he dreamed of Lewis lying on top of him

He feels Lewis grow hard against him, the urgent rock hardness presses into him. Worse, he was growing hard and it feels so overwhelming, so out of control, wanting something he knows was wrong, so wrong, and yet, not only..............................

He eyes snapped open, looking at Lewis, whose eyes were closed, running lips and teeth over James’ neck.

“I do love you,” James said as he involuntarily tensed, pulled back his hips and then shoved roughly and rolled off the bed and ran into the bathroom, locking the door.

Robbie was stunned. What had happened? What had he done now? This was so stupid. “James?” he yelled. “James?” he knocked on the door and called James’ name a third time.

James had his back the door, seated on the floor, hugging his legs, sucking the denim on his knees and rocking slightly, the back of his head bumping the bathroom door slightly with each rock.

He loved Robbie Lewis. He did want him. He did, but it hurt. Touching hurt. It was terrifying. All that kissing, all that touching. Why wouldn’t he just fuck him like all the others? He could bear that. He knew what that was like. Only this time he was in love, so he must want it. But Lewis wanted more, other things too. Things he’d given up on so long ago he’d forgotten how to respond, how to reciprocate. And it hurt.

His Mum gave up on him too soon, maybe? He remembered vaguely soft kisses on his cheek and forehead, cuddles on her lap and then she stopped touching him. If he had put his arms around her in the kitchen after school, if he had run to her after a ‘piano lesson’, if he so much as climbed on her lap as she watched television let alone climbed in bed with her after another nightmare she shoved him away. And the looks she gave, as if he disgusted her, as if she couldn’t bear to touch him.

He was seven when she started to push him away. She showed love in other ways. She stood up to Dad over the scholarship. She insisted his Dad buy the guitar. She fed him. She came to every school concert, every match. She came to his graduation and was there at the boat race. But when other mothers hugged their offspring, she just said she was proud.

By fourteen he had long given up on missing the cuddles, the touches, told himself he didn’t need it. But by then, his father, who had never touched him when he was small, as far as he could remember, unless you counted the back of his hand and the occasional fist had started to hold him.

Tightly. It didn’t hurt. No caresses, no kisses, no gentle thing. Just a tight hug after he had taken him... to those places, to those... men. An apology. A hug.

James shuddered and pulled his legs closer to his chest, holding himself more tightly.

At school other boys wanked. He knew, he could hear. Some boys took mutual comfort in each other, wanked each other. A few even experimented with kissing, even further by Year 11. But he never did. When he was young it had been made very plain to him nice boys didn’t touch there, he would go to hell if he played with himself. By the time he was at an age to decide for himself he was convinced he had a vocation, and even if he didn’t, he still knew he had to be celibate and he also knew even for the non-celibate masturbation was a sin, any form of sexual activity that didn’t lead to procreation in marriage was. Full stop. No ifs, not buts. It didn’t matter what society thought, it was the decision of the Church, of the infallible Pope, of Christ, of God.

It was the same at Cambridge. If he did give into temptation he hated himself afterwards. Not so much the sin, but the loss of control, the sensation of coming was too intense, too overwhelming, too reminding...

He didn’t want reminding. He whimpered. That man. He was taken to him time and time again over three years. He had been far, far more touching than Augustus. Making him beg, so pleased when he came, when he was older enough, developed enough, to come. Made him always after that. Told him he was a good boy, a boy who knew what he wanted. Made him beg for it.

Outside, the other side of the bathroom, Lewis had given up calling. He sat on the floor also, listening. When he heard the whimper he knocked again.

“James? James, pet? Are you alright? Please. Tell me. I want to help. I love you.”

What did that mean? Sometimes James felt he couldn’t breathe when he looked at his boss. He was so beautiful, although he knew he wouldn’t agree. The first time he’d seen him out of a suit, in jeans, he’d felt dizzy. He grew distracted when he took of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves in their office.

What did it truly mean? He could quote poetry, songs, sonnets, pop lyrics, literature, but the feeling of excitement, the head rush of knowing he was going to see him, the longing to be with him when he wasn’t. To listen to him speak, to hear his thoughts, to be so privileged to be with him...

To need him? He wanted to be held, to be kissed, to do more. Or perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps the longing and dreaming was all. He had thought he was doomed to unrequited love, that Lewis was straight. Had he wanted only that? He had been feeling terrified since Lewis had told him he loved him, told him what he wanted.

A mistake, Lewis had said later. And apologized profusely, in fact, told James there were a thousand other things they could do. Treated him like cut glass crystal. As if he were fragile, as if he might break. He never shouted, never grew angry, but he had, James just knew, taken himself off to the bathroom to jerk off in private when James had shoved him away once again.

Poor, poor Robbie. What a tease he was, what mixed signals he gave. He didn’t even understand himself, why half of what they did terrified him and the other half actually seemed to hurt.

Robbie sometimes took James’ hands and placed them on his body, his face, trying to show him it was okay, trying to teach him things he knew in theory. Not all touches lead to sex. He always had permission to touch Robbie even if Robbie didn’t have permission always to touch him.

Laying down, pulling James on top of him. Encouraging them to lie on his sofa that way, him on top of Robbie. But it had felt wrong to James, he wanted – needed – Robbie on top of him, it made him feel secure.

“James? Are you okay? Can you a least say something?” Lewis was growing more worried by the second. The regular rhythmic thumps he heard were getting steadier and louder and the whimpering more persistent.

James closed his eyes and tried to remember why he panicked. He told himself he loved his boss, he wanted to give him anything, anything at all Robbie Lewis wanted. He remembered the feel of the weight of him. He had liked that. He did like that.

Suddenly hundreds of hotel rooms and private homes crowded in, all beds, the weight of some man pushing him into the bed...

Augustus never lay on him.

James slapped his face and dug his nails into his palms.

“James!”

“I do love you!” James called through the door. “I do. Don’t be angry...”

He did love Robbie. He wasn’t going to get angry, not like his father. He remembered the two times Lewis had been seriously pissed off with him. Oh God, a slanging match in the street. Sending him on leave.

“I’m not angry love. Worried is all. And sorry, pet, so sorry I did something wrong.”

“It wasn’t you, it’s me.” James’ voice begins to crack. “I can’t seem to... it’s not fear. Or memories. It seems to hurt me.”

“I try to be so gentle, James. Damn! I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

James stands up and opens the door. He stands, swaying slightly, fists balled as he digs fingertips and bitten nails into his palms. He looks down at the ground, ashamed and nervous. He has no idea how he looks to Robbie, which is like a child, a child not knowing what is about to happen, but afraid all the same.

“I don’t want you to be gentle,” James mumbles.

Lewis takes James’ hands in his and uncurls his fingers, looking at the red marks. “It’s a good job you bite your nails, man,” he scolds gently. “Stigmata is supposed to just happen, you’re not supposed to give yourself it.”

Lewis has him by the wrist now and gently pulls him, not to the bed, but to the two easy chairs clustered around a coffee table, in front of the TV. He firmly pushes on James shoulders until he sits. He puts on the TV and puts the remote in James’ hand.

James stares blindly at a Marple on ITV3. He hardly notices it when it finishes and is replaced by a 1970s US detective show.

“Tea.” Lewis says at his ear.

“I don’t really like tea.”

“You drink tea, James. Not often, but you do. With fish and chips if we’re not on the beer. At breakfast at my place before work. It’s just after those bastards, you know.”

“That was Russian. Sweet, black and made in a samovar. Not proper English tea.” He tries to smile. It’s awkward and lopsided, not a proper smile at all. “This will have sugar, won’t it? It’s medicine, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Robbie Lewis hands him the tea before sitting down in the other chair. “You watching this? It’s older than you.”

“Not really.” Which was true, James was watching his own movie reel, a childhood of grief and pain and the wrong sort of touches, which were frightening and unwanted, but after a while never hurt, along with the lack of the right sort, which apparently do hurt.

Robbie turns off the TV and turns to James, who holds his breathe expectantly, but all Robbie says is, “Drink your tea.”


	2. Chapter 2

James sipped his tea, trying not to wince at the sugar. “Do you want me to explain?” he asked finally.

“I got the gist of it. You don’t need to explain anything, tell me anything, James. I know you’ve been through a lot. Not the recent thing, but that can’t help. I know about your childhood, pet. Look, it’s lovely outside. The grounds are lovely. Let’s go for a walk.”

“No!” James said fiercely. Lewis looked at him sideways. “Okay, sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.”

“Okay. There’s a pool. Fancy a swim? You packed swim shorts? I did tell you...”

James shook his head.

“We could go to the bar, get a drink, maybe? Early tea?”

“Dinner,” James corrected in absent-minded snobbery.

“Dinner then,” conceded Robbie mildly, then added, laughing, “Sometimes you’re like bloody Morse and Val rolled into one. Both were always on at me grammar and that.”

James was awkward at any mention of Val, but he asked curiously, “Val?”

“Aye. She worked at a school.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Ah well, I’d stopped talking about her non-stop by the time we met. Special needs classroom assistant. TAs they’re called now.”

“Oh.” James finished his tea and put it on the table. “What do you want to do Sir?”

“Whatever you want, pet, whatever you’re comfortable. Apart from calling me sir. You can stop that right now. Else.”

“Else you’ll spank me? Did you mean it?”

Robbie sniggered. “Well, you’ve got three chances, yeah. Wait and see.”

“S... Robbie! I don’t want...”

“Come here you daft sod!” Robbie pulled James to his feet and hugged him tightly. “I just said, whatever you’re comfortable with. But talking of being comfortable, we’re not at work man, we’re here, together, a romantic weekend, even if it turns out just as non-dirty as every other night, alright? I just don’t feel comfortable with sir here, okay? I’m not like that.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m ruining everything!” James grabbed his cigarettes and rushed out on to the balcony.

A while later, when his was on his second cigarette lit from the end of the first Robbie joined him, coming up behind and wrapping his arms around James’ waist. He tried desperately not to be hurt by the involuntary flinch.

“What a view, eh? ’Course, it’ll smell nice too if you weren’t polluting it.”

“Sorry.” James dropped the cigarette over the edge, same way as the butt of the other.

“Oi! Naughty!” Robbie smacked James’ bum, hard, just the once. He then held his breath, afraid of what he’d just done. But it was milliseconds later he could release the breath as James let out a nervous giggle. A small one, but still one definite little giggle of laughter.

James turned around and gently took Robbie’s face in his hands and kissed him. Robbie relaxed and held James’ tighter around his waist and kissed back.

“I do love you. I do. I don’t know why you’re so patient with me. I don’t deserve it, I don’t,” James started nervously after sometime.

“Oh shut up,” Robbie said, but gently, before grabbing James by his short hair and kissing him again. He put his hands to his waist but this time slid them down, grabbing handfuls of James’ bum. James gasped and pulled away and went back inside. Robbie followed, leaving the balcony doors open. “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He sat down on the bed. Robbie sat down beside him, pressing their thighs together.

“It’s okay, pet, it’s fine.”

“No it isn’t! Maybe we should go to the bar. If I got absolutely paralytic you could have your wicked way with me and...”

“I don’t want to have my wicked way, you stupid sod, I want to make love to you. I’m not taking you semi conscious and drunk, I’m not, and that is final. Don’t bloody suggest it again.” Robbie sounded annoyed and slightly angry. James flinched at the raised voice.

James leapt to his feet. “I’m sorry!”

Afraid he was heading to lock himself in the bathroom again Robbie reached out a hand and grabbed James by the wrist and pulled with far more force than he intended. James fell back, crashing on the bed flat on his back. Before he could think Robbie had rolled on top of him and was pushing up his T-shirt.

“You said you didn’t want me to be gentle,” he clarified.

“Get off!”

“No,” Robbie said, running fingers over James bare skin, pushing the T-shirt further, fingers moving to tickle rather than caress.

“I... I said... stop it!” James began to laugh.

“Make me,” Robbie said, straddling James hips as he tugged off James’ T-shirt.

“What... what are you going to do?”

“Nothing that will remotely hurt or make you feel uncomfortable, I hope. If it does, or you have flashbacks, just say love, you don’t need to lock a door on me. I’d never hurt you deliberately. Ever. I love you.” Robbie pulled off his own polo shirt and threw it on the floor. It landed on top of James’ T-shirt.

James lay back, staring, overcome with lust and fear in equal measure. “What are we doing?”

“Doing?” Robbie ran his hands up James sides and began to tickle under his arms. James laughed and squirmed. “I might tickle you to death.”

“Stop... stop it!”

“Make me!” Robbie said, blowing a raspberry on James’ belly. He then undid James’ jeans belt and fly.

“S... Robbie! Don’t!”

Robbie sat up. “Okay. But let me explain, love. I just thought we could get used to being together, naked. We don’t have to do anything. Unless you want to. I promise not to touch you sexually, okay? But unless you want me to stop...” He picked up James’ hand and started to trace his finger around the palm. “Does this touching hurt?” he asked. “Anyone do this to you as a little kid?”

“Do what?” James propped himself up on his other elbow and looked at Robbie’s finger making circles on his palm.

“This? How does it go? Round and round the garden...”

“What?”

“Like a teddy bear.”

“Like a what?”

“You serious?” Robbie fought to keep the disgust at James’ parents out of his voice.

“Um...”

Robbie looked in astonishment. James was a great one for winding him up, but no, the man looked puzzled. He had that little crease in his forehead. He hated to admit he didn’t know something. A bit like Morse in that respect. Val, on the other hand would cheerfully admit ignorance before beginning on a quest for research. He really had to stop thinking of Val. She’d want him happy, that he knew. And she’d share his horror at James’ childhood. “One step,” he said, “two steps,” he continued before tickling James again without mercy, until his squealed laughter and begs for him to stop filled his ears.

While James was laughing so hard he was afraid he might have a bit of an accident Robbie quickly pulled of his jeans and boxers before taking off his own. Socks were next. Robbie considered sucking James’ toe but reconsidered. Sensation overload, probably. “Tell me know this one?” he asked, before beginning This Little Piggy.

“My Grandma did that one...” James began before laughing again as the tickling started all the way up his leg. As Robbie’s fingers brushed his inner thigh the laughing slowed as James began to grow hard.

Robbie had been thinking of the most revolting things to keep his erection at bay so as not to alarm James: his mother-in-law naked, CSI Strange in a bath of baked beans (a past favourite both to prevent climaxing too soon with Val and to not lose his self-control when he or Morse were being given a bollocking), his mother-in-law singing and dancing naked (which was just scary, though not as scary of thinking of her reaction to finding he was finally moving on with another man). However, as James backed away in a panic looking as if he were about to rush to the bathroom to lock himself in Robbie realised it was his own reaction James was as scared of as much as his own. He had wondered about it before, but now he was certain.

“No,” he grabbed James, “you’re not going anywhere my pet. We’ll talk about this sensibly. Alright?”

“Let go of me!” James punched out at Robbie, who blocked him.

“Stop!”

James wriggled out of his grasp and up the bed. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it so it was between them.

“Like that it is?” Robbie said and picked up another pillow and hit James’ pillow with it, then James, on the top of the head.

James, stunned, started to laugh again before whacking Robbie back with his own pillow. For almost five minutes they both shed years – many more in Robbie Lewis’ case – and had the noisiest, silliest pillow fight before they collapsed side by side on the bed, looking at each other with daft grins on their faces. Their eyes, however, spoke of love. James seemed a lot more relaxed. Robbie gently put his hand out to caress James’ cheek before kissing him again.

Robbie broke the kiss first so as not to seem pushy. “Okay, love?”

“Think so.”

“You are allowed to touch me, you know.”

“You want me tickle you too?”

“Whatever you want James. I told you before, you’re in control; you have all the power here.”

“But... but I really do want you to screw me, but I’m so scared.”

“There’s other things pet.”

“I... I think some of those scare me more. I want you to take charge. I want you to...”

“You’re not listening James. You get what you want here, you’re more important than me right now.”

“You want to screw me, I know you do.”

“Yeah. Sure. You’re gorgeous. You’re lovely, you are. ’Course I want you, pet. But only if and when you do. You okay now? Not going to lock me out again?”

“Metaphorically or really?”

“Trust you! Well, both, I suppose. Touch me. Go on. Whatever you what.”

“I was never allowed...”

“What?”

James scowled and then locked down his face into a complete emotionless mask. “Nothing.” He took a deep breath and did what he’d been dying to do since Robbie had taken off his shirt. He gently ran his fingers through Robbie’s chest hair and then twisted his fingers in, smiling. He lay his head on Robbie’s shoulder and put his arms around him, holding him tightly.

“I do love you. I really think I need to get a bit drunk if not paralytic.”

“A bit drunk is allowed.” Robbie smiled and kissed James on the forehead. James held back even tighter and closed his eyes. They lay like that for sometime.

The sun had set. James lay curled around Robbie, staring out at the darkness, the deep darkness of the countryside. Beyond the lights of the car park and front, and the lights down the drive from the main road, there was nothing but the harvest moon and the stars.

“Okay?”

“Yup.”

“Sure?”

“Yup.”

“Good. Shall we get something to eat?”

James looked up as if Lewis were speaking a foreign language.

“You know, food? I’m starving.”

James laughed. “Okay,” he agreed. “And later..?”

“And later, we’ll try again. You’ll be fine.”

“Especially if you get me a bottle or two of red wine.”

“It’s a deal. But first, lets shower.”

“Together?”

Robert Lewis laughed. “Yes, pet. Together.”


	3. Chapter 3

James reluctantly let go of Lewis and watched him walk towards the bathroom. He sighed and sat up and hugged his knees just as Robbie turned to look at him.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes. In a bit. Soon.”

James closed his eyes and hugged his legs tightly, sucking his knee. He could hear the shower switch on and also Robbie relieve himself, but the sounds were far away. James could hear another man, a wealthy man who could afford a room at the Randolph, no questions asked.

“We’ll shower together first. Won’t it be fun? I know you little boys, always off having fun, getting dirty. We need you to be clean to have fun, don’t we?”

Dad always makes me have a bath, James could have said. Having what fun, getting dirty how? He could have asked, but didn’t. He was on his school holidays, no one wanted to play with him, the stuck up, toffee nose brat who went to a post school, the local comprehensive wasn’t good enough for the likes of the Hathaway kid! Besides, this man only saw him at Easter and Christmas, never the summer. Business trips, James was recommended to him by the first, the man with the huge, old brick and flint cottage with the inglenooks and mahogany bookcases. He did like to look at the books. Sometimes, if his Dad was late coming back, he was allowed. It was small compensation, first edition Dickens.

This man was fat, and hairy, covered in grey fur and bald on top. The things he made James do in the shower...

Robbie was fairly hairy, well, he had some body hair and it was nice. Not much of it going grey, either. James had liked running his fingers through his chest hair. It was nice. And Lewis did make him feel safe, but...

Not in a shower. Not yet. Robbie was trying so hard to understand, to be patient, to control – no hide! – his own needs and desires. It wouldn’t be very easy to hide in a shower. James could explain, but he didn’t think Robbie knew, or remembered he supposed, and why should he? He really, really couldn’t face explaining it all. As far as James knew, all Robbie thought had happened was at Creveceour. All! Wasn’t that enough?

“James?”

He couldn’t! He couldn’t do it! It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, it was more...

The bed shook as Robbie sat down next to him. James couldn’t bring himself to look up, to speak. He buried his face further into his knees and screwed his eyes tight shut.

“James pet, you’re whimpering again. And rocking, love. Can I give you a hug? Please? James?”

James didn’t know what to say.

“Please, will you let me cuddle you love? I don’t want to touch you if it’s the wrong thing.”

Robbie sounded so guilty, worried and unhappy it penetrated James’ fog of misery and confusion and guilt. “Please,” he whispered, and snuggled into Robbie as he put his arms around him. “I can’t get in the shower with you. Please don’t ask why. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“S’sh. You have nothing to apologise for, okay? You have done nothing wrong,” but the you was emphasized with much aggression, as if Robbie wanted to tear apart who was to blame right then. He was shaking with anger, too; James could feel it through the hug.

“I’m sorry. You go and take the shower, if you want. I’ll get dressed.”

“What about a bath together?” Robbie suggested gently.

James looked up, confused. “What?”

“Me and Val used to, when the kids were asleep. Starting off dirty or romantic, but I think it ended up just being cheaper. Typical!”

“Will we fit?”

“Bath’s massive, have you seen it? Bloody should be, price of this suite.”

“I... I should have offered to pay something, I...”

“S’sh. S’sh, pet. This is on me, my treat. You don’t feel comfortable about that, either, do you?”

James shut down visibly in front of Robbie, his eyes glazing and his face showing no emotion whatsoever. He said flatly, “I showered before you picked me up.”

What could he do? James didn’t want to talk at all about any of it. Robbie smiled sadly and took James’ face in his hands, pulling his towards him to gently kiss his forehead. “You get dressed. I’ll take that shower and then we’ll get something to eat. Okay. Watch TV or something. I won’t be long.”

“I’m sorry. I’m ruining everything.”

“You are ruining nothing pet. Stop apologising for things that aren’t your fault. I’m here for you. We have all the time in the world. I love you. Alright?” He ruffled James’ hair before getting up and walking back to the bathroom.

James wanted to cry but he fought it by digging his fingers into his wrist, into his scars, until he felt centred enough to dress. Once dressed he headed for the mini bar. He glanced worriedly at the bathroom door. Robbie had been angry at the idea of him getting too drunk. James made himself a coffee and tipped two mini Scotches into it.

When Robbie emerged, hair damp, white towel around his waist, James was dressed in his jeans and tight top, a black jacket over the top, curled up on the easy chair sipping coffee and watching the news. Robbie grinned at him and began to dress, James watched, liking what he saw but frightened by his liking. Was he too damaged ever to love? When he looked at Robbie now, damp skin covered with fine dark hair, muscled skin, surprising fit and toned for a man of his age, James felt a desperate ache, a rush of lust that ran through his whole body, to say nothing of the urgent rock hardness of his cock. He wanted Robbie to fuck him so bad when he was like this, but as soon as he started to think, or Robbie actually touched him, kissed him, the feeling died.

Right. This had to stop. He drained his whisky drenched coffee and stood. Robbie was dressed. They looked at each other, eyes locked. James looked away first, lowering his eyelashes submissively, flirtatiously.

“Please, S... Robbie. Let me get drunk. I want to so badly, but I’m afraid. I just need to get the first time out of the way. I’m sure once we’ve done it once I’ll be fine. I love you. I do. Really. Please don’t be angry.”

Robbie sighed and picked up the keys and his wallet and phone. He could tell James again that it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t angry with James, but what good would it do? James wouldn’t really ‘hear’.

“I’m starved. Let’s hope their food is as good as they say. After you,” he opened the suite door. James stepped out on to the landing and looked over the edge of the other side, at the pool. It was decorated to look like a Roman baths. It should have been vulgar, but it wasn’t. Suddenly his stomach rumbled. He was suddenly very hungry. He hoped the sweet menu was good.

After locking the door Robbie came over and took hold of James hand, and hand in hand they walked down the stairs and toward the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had thought this was finished but then I realised I wanted to take this 'missing scene' right up to where they are in the end of chapter one of Blue Autumn Love. Missing scenes are not so much missing, but absent in the orginal version told verbally over and over for my daughter. I may have an idea of what has gone on between the boys between scens for my daughter, but I don't share them. so, therefore, missing scenes are also not betaed!


End file.
